everytime you kissed me
by CrimsonBooks
Summary: Light knows he shouldn't, shouldn't, feel anything for Cecil. That doesn't stop him, however, from falling hard all the same.


A/N: Ehm. So yes, hi~ First time writing for this particular fandom and for these particular characters. I've never actually played the game (damn you, SquEnix, for not making this into a PS2 game!) so I wouldn't know whether I've gotten them anywhere _near_ IC. For those of you who do know, tell me if I got it right?

...I really should feel ashamed, writing for a fandom I know only through YouTube clips and other fics .

Disclaimer: I do not own Dissidia: Final Fantasy or any of its characters; they belong to Square Enix. Sadly, I don't even own a copy of the game, so why would I be making any profit through this?

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**everytime you kissed me - 1**

_Cecil's breathing is warm against his neck, his arms warm against his shoulders. Light has never basked in a warmth like this one before, and he thinks he never will again. No one on the face of this planet or any other can possibly be as warm as Cecil. No one._

But there's that one thought that keeps going around in his mind, keeps him from actually holding Cecil close. It's the one thought that would be sin to ignore.

"You have a wife."

Cecil stills, his hands clenching slightly on Light's shoulders. And Light smiles wryly against Cecil's shoulder, pushes away from the ground they're pressed up against. This charade has ended, before it's truly began, but that's only good. He's not used to the warmth yet. He can still part from it. It's not too late yet.

Cecil's hand—warm, so warm—closes around his arm, halts his movement, and Light knows it's too late now. The warmth has already seeped inside. Cecil's lips, also, are warm when they press lightly against his jawline. "I know," he murmurs, and even his voice is warm—seems to be, at least.

It should be concession enough—should be persuasion enough. He should give in now, bask in that warmth and never let it go again. Except that he doesn't understand. Cecil loves his wife, loves Rosa, or he would not have married her. He doesn't understand, then, why he would go along with this now, when this is the greatest act of treachery. He doesn't understand why Cecil would do this to himself; Light knows that he'll be torn up with guilt, later, when they've gathered their crystals and are back home. Light knows Cecil will eat himself up over this when he sees Rosa again.

And so he doesn't move, doesn't bridge the distance he has created. Instead, he murmurs: "Then why are you doing this?"

Cecil's answer is immediate. "I don't know." But even as he says that, he sits up, bridges the distance Light doesn't dare to bridge, wraps his arms around Light's shoulders, envelops Light in that warmth. All Light can do is breathe, even when gentle lips press against his throat. "It's just that the thought of not doing it seems insane."

His lips land near Light's far too close for comfort, brushing along the corner of his mouth, almost a gentle coaxing. Light can only close his eyes and give into its temptation. His lips burn, as if they're on fire, when they meet Cecil's. But never, in his entire life, has he felt this warm and safe before.

No one on the face of this planet or any other can make him feel this way.  
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"They've taken Cecil."

It's Tidus who tells him, but it might as well be anyone. He doesn't remember after the news is brought to him, anyway. All is black for one long moment. He can't breathe for one long moment. Then everything comes back at full force and he's left wavering with the impact of it.

They have Cecil. His Cecil. And he wasn't there to prevent it.

It takes him several moments to speak. "How do you know?" he asks and even his voice is wavering until he clears his throat. He dreads the answer. A source will make it reality. As long as there's no source, it can be made up.

"I was there," Tidus says, and all Light can think is _then why didn't you save him?_, but the teen goes on: "But then Jecht showed up and I lost sight of him. I was only just in time to see Cecil vanish with Golbez."

"Was he injured?" Light can hear himself ask, but his voice sounds strange to him; does it sound like this to the others, as well? If it does, if it actually wavers like he thinks it wavers, they'll know he doesn't ask just because he has to, because he is supposed to be the leader of their rag-tag group of warriors—they'll know he asks because he cares, because he _loves_.

He shies away from the thought. He doesn't love Cecil, cannot love Cecil. He won't allow himself. He knows they'll have to part as soon as Chaos is defeated. He knows Cecil doesn't love _him_; he has heard the whispers of a name, a name he knows to be of Cecil's wife. Awake, Cecil never talks about her; only when he's asleep, soft pleads and whimpers escape pale lips. Light hears. He hears every night, but he never questions. Even though he hates to admit it, he knows questions will hurt.

But now, Cecil is gone, stolen away, and he regrets not asking. The hurt of the answer would have been less than this hurt.

"Unconscious," Tidus answers and _thank Cosmos_, his face doesn't show any traces that he's noticed the tremble in Light's voice. "I didn't see any blood."

"Golbez never hurts Cecil if he can help it," Cloud muses from where he's leaning against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest, shoulder bared to let Squall work on an injury. "Only where he needs to. I'm guessing the same happened today." His gaze darkens and he glances at his shoulder, rotating it and nodding in thanks at Squall. "I wasn't there, so I can only guess. Sephiroth held me up." No one responds to that, everyone knowing Cloud rather avoids talking about his nemesis, if he can help it, especially when said nemesis has managed to wound him.

Squall glances at Cloud before taking his place against the opposite wall. "It seems staged," he says, glancing at each warrior present in the room in turn. "It's a little _too_ convenient Sephiroth, Jecht _and _the Emperor were there at the same time. They were there to lure Cloud, Tidus and Firion away from Cecil."

"No disrespect here," Zidane interrupts, "but why would they want _Cecil_ in particular? They need all of us gone in order for Chaos to win the war."

"They have to start somewhere," Bartz says, but he seems unconvinced of his own words.

"Yes, but then why Cecil?" Zidane specifies. After that, there's silence, with careful glances in Light's direction. Said man lowers his eyes in contemplation. The only possible explanation for Cecil's abduction is that Chaos' warriors want to exterminate Cosmos' warriors one at a time, but then, indeed, there's no reason why they would start with Cecil. And deliberately start with Cecil they did, or Sephiroth, Jecht and Mateus wouldn't have been present to distract Cecil's comrades. But why Cecil?

Suddenly, a thought comes to him that's so impossible that it just might be the reason. Of course, they've been careful—never exchanging as much as a single glance during the day, never standing too close, only seeking the other's company under the cover of nightfall, and even then stifling groans and cries to a minimum. There's no way anyone should know. But still...

He reluctantly lifts his eyes to lock with Tidus'. "Did you see Garland anywhere?" Tidus shakes his head; Cloud does the same when Light looks at him. Only Firion, whom he really hasn't spoken to much, frowns in thought. Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly and he looks back at Light, nodding. Light's mouth goes dry. _So it truly is..._ "Where?"

"On a rock, somewhere," Firion answers, almost carefully. "He wasn't participating, just watching." And there it is. The reason. His fault. He is the reason Cecil is taken. They haven't been careful enough—_he_hasn't been careful enough. He should have known Garland would see.

Without saying a word, he pushes himself away from the wall and makes his way over to the door. Even without looking back, he knows the others are exchanging odd looks; he counts down in his head, and indeed; when he reaches zero, Bartz says carefully:

"Ehm... where are you going?"

"Garland," he answers curtly, not giving them a how or why; if he explained, he would give away their secret—he would give away what they are, if they are anything to begin with. Light likes to tell himself they are. They've come together so often, he _must_ mean something to Cecil. He keeps telling himself that, because he's already addicted to Cecil's warmth, and he doesn't think he can do without it anymore.

He doesn't even _want_ to think about the time when they have defeated Chaos and Cecil will be going back to his own world—back to Rosa.

He is nearly out the door when Squall shoulders past him. When Light halts and frowns at him, the teen shifts the Gunblade on his shoulder and says blackly: "You want to go after Cecil, right? Let's go then." Light stares at him, dumbfounded, and opens his mouth to ask him _why_, but then Cloud moves past him, looking back over his shoulder, telling Light with a single glance to just shut up and follow. When they turn away and move outside, Light realises that they _know_. They _know_ how he feels about Cecil.

The realisation makes his stomach tighten. He really hasn't been careful enough, then, if even Cloud and Squall know; he has seen them three times, perhaps, since they have arrived here. If even they can see, then—

"Stop fussing," Squall interrupts his train of thought. "They don't know."

"Technically, _we_ don't know," Cloud adds. "It's not like we've seen you, anyway."

"It's just that you act like Cloud," Squall says with a glance at the blond walking next to him. "Whenever he finds me injured, he immediately asks whether Sephiroth did it, and if not, if he was near." He shrugs. "That's why we guessed."

"And we thought you could use a little help," Cloud says, smiling ever so slightly. Light is so flabbergasted by the fact that Cloud is actually _smiling_ that it takes him a while to realise what Squall implied with his earlier words—_it's just that you act like Cloud._

He halts his pace, his usual stoic attitude failing him. "You—" he stammers incoherently. "The two of you are—"

"Does that matter at the moment?" Squall says gruffly, his posture tenser than just a moment before. "We should focus on getting Cecil back unharmed." Light stares at him for a while, silent; then, he allows himself to smile ever so slightly in thanks and he nods, summoning his sword to his hand.

"Let's go."


End file.
